


the shadows on my wall

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Late Night Conversations, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Nogitsune Trauma, Pack Feels, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-22 12:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Contrary to what everyone else seemed to believe, Stiles wasfine.





	the shadows on my wall

**Author's Note:**

> for @FoolishSel who wanted _Friends to lovers, fluff, smut, actually just them healing and taking care of themselves and generally finding happiness_
> 
> I really hope you enjoy!

 

Someone was calling his name. At least Stiles thought so, but he could barely hear it over the buzz of the electricity and Erica and Boyd’s screams.

Then his dad was there, yelling. “Stiles! Come on, wake up. Wake up. It’s just a dream, son.”

With a gasp, Stiles was no longer in the Argent’s dark basement. Instead, his dad was kneeling by his bed, breathing hard.

Once he was no longer in the clutches of the nightmare, he patted his dad’s arm.

The Sheriff sighed, and Stiles could see just how hard his sleepless nights were on him, too. “I know that you’ve probably researched the hell out of this. But is there some sort of spell? A magic talisman? A dream catcher? Anything that would stop the nightmares?”

“A dream catcher?” Stiles thought for a moment. Magic was real, there was no question about it. But Deaton had said that there was no indication that his dreams were magical in origin. “This might just be old-fashioned human trauma, Pops. I need to learn to live with the fact that sleeping will always be a nightmare. Literally.”

“Then talk to someone. This is killing you,” his dad scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

And Stiles would do anything to take that desperate look off of his father’s face. Maybe even take some of his friends’ advice. Even though it wouldn’t change anything. But it was okay, he was dealing.

Contrary to what everyone else seemed to believe, Stiles was _fine_.

-..-..-..-

“It could be psychosomatic,” Lydia said, almost as soon as she was over the threshold. “You get so worked up before you go to sleep that it triggers the nightmares. Maybe you should try to relax more.”

Stiles rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for strength. “Lyds, I don’t even know what a peaceful night of sleep is like anymore.”

She tapped the rolled up mat under her arm. “That’s way I brought yoga DVDs and face masks.”

Shaking his head, Stiles followed her through the house, watching her dim the lights and set out scented candles. Lavender. Very relaxing.

Two hours later, Stiles was feeling pretty good. His muscles were loose, and his skin felt softer than ever. Even his mind was sluggish, sleep dragging him down easily.

But Alpha Peter greeted him, with his twisted words and creepy smiles. His eyes glowed the same red as the flames that engulfed him, leaving him screaming until Stiles was screaming himself awake.

Lydia just jotted something down in the notebook on his desk and rose to her feet. “Do you want to go back to sleep or should I make another cup of tea?”

The memory of Peter’s touch on his skin made Stiles shudder.

“Tea, please.”

They ended up drinking cocoa on the porch and waiting for the sun to rise.

-..-..-..-

The next day, Kira followed him home after their pack meeting. “I know Lydia tried relaxation techniques, but maybe you need to exhaust yourself.”

It probably said a lot about his mental state, because Stiles was just about ready to try anything. Even if it meant getting his ass kicked by a kitsune.

The second they were inside, Kira threw his gym bag at him and darted up the stairs to change. They spent the day running all over Beacon Hills, then played with a frisbee in the park. By the time the sun set, Stiles could feel the heavy ache in his limbs that meant his body was well and truly exhausted.

Even Kira’s kitsune energy couldn’t compete. Fresh out of the shower, she collapsed into bed without a word. Stiles crawled in next to her and found himself lulled to sleep by her even breathing.

This time the dream was quiet. He was in the ice bath, staring at the ceiling through the water. The cold ate away at his lungs and he could feel himself slowly suffocating.

By the time Kira managed to wake him, Stiles’ pillow was soaked with tears.

“Shhhh,” she coaxed him upright and wrapped her arms around him. “It was just a bad dream. Just a dream. None of it was real.”

It took longer than usual for Stiles to pull himself together. But there was something therapeutic about crying into Kira’s shoulder while she rubbed his back and spoke softly in his ear.

Once he’d caught his breath, Stiles straightened and swiped his arm over his eyes. “Well. I can’t go back to sleep after that. I need coffee- no I need a drink.”

Kira snorted. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

Stiles caught her before she slipped down the stairs.

“Thank you,” he said. “I mean it.”

She smiled at him. Not her usual 100-watt grin, but something softer. “Anytime, Stiles.”

When they curled up on the couch, it felt a lot like family.

-..-..-..-

It took a bit for Stiles to catch on to Scott’s plan. But he knew his best friend well enough to know that at least half of his cheerfulness was forced. There was no way he would be this chipper so soon after Allison died.

 _After you killed her,_ the voice that sounded like the Nogitsune whispered in his mind.

But the Nogitsune was gone, and everyone kept telling him it wasn’t his fault. So, Stiles was going to do his best to gorge himself on junk food and play videogames until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

He woke up screaming. Allison’s lifeless eyes were boring into his mind. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he could hear himself saying, sounding far away.

“It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay, buddy.”

Scott had him pinned to the carpet, a firm grip on each wrist beside his head. Even Stiles’ human senses picked up on the metallic scent of blood. It had been a while since he’d clawed himself to the point of breaking skin.

So much for progress.

“That’s it. That’s it, just relax,” Scott crooned, and he looked _wrecked_ ,

Stiles felt like the guilt was going to drown him. “Sorry,” he whispered, voice raw.

“None of this is your fault.” Scott sounded so sure of his own words that Stiles couldn’t help but believe them.

After a moment, Scott released his hands and rolled off of him. Stiles lay panting, wondering if it was even worth trying to go back to sleep.

Seeming to read his mind, Scott hauled him to his feet. “Let’s get you to the shower, you’re covered in sweat.”

-..-..-..-

Stiles was four hours into a Wikipedia spiral when his window was shoved open.

“What, the-” he spun around, expecting to see six feet of broody werewolf crawling into his room.

Instead, Cora Hale dusted off her jeans and nodded at him. “Stilinski.”

That definitely wasn’t the Hale he was hoping to see.

“Is Derek okay?” He hadn’t heard from him in a while, and his last few texts hadn’t gone through. But he’d thought that’d meant Derek was out of range. Shit. What if-

“Breathe,” Cora commanded, dragging him out of his computer chair and herding him toward the bed. “My brother is fine. He’s with a pack up in Oregon right now, making some kind of peace treaty.”

“But why-?” Stiles let her manhandle him under the covers.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re pack too, idiot. Lydia said you weren’t sleeping.”

“How do I know I’m not actually dreaming right now?” Stiles frowned at where she was situating herself at his desk. “You’re acting really strange. Even for you.”

“Try to get some rest.” She spun away from him, then fussed with her phone.

Stiles was awake two hours later, with the image of Derek strung up and bleeding burned into his mind’s eye. Cora held him as he caught his breath, shuddering.

When he drifted off again, Cora was on the phone.

“He hasn’t slept in two weeks,” she murmured. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Stiles lost the thread of the conversation as unconsciousness claimed him.

-..-..-..-

For the first time in a long time, Stiles woke up feeling rested.

He blinked at the sunlight streaming through the window, then looked toward the door. His dad was standing in the doorway, smiling.

“How’re you feeling, son?” he whispered.

Stiles was suddenly aware of the weight at his back, anchoring him. He shifted until he saw a familiar face, brows pinching into a frown as Stiles moved.

“He showed up yesterday morning,” his dad said, “You were both out like a light.”

Derek snuffled, dragging Stiles back toward his chest.

“We’re making pancakes. Don’t take too long,” Cora shouted from downstairs.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He eased the door closed behind him and clomped down the stairs.

Once he was down and trying to convince Cora to put chocolate chips in the batter, by the sounds of it, Stiles rolled to face his bedmate. Or maybe more like bed-thief.

“Hey, big guy.”

Derek twitched and tried to drag the covers over his head. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. A morning person, Derek was not.

He watched as one green eye blinked open, then the other. Derek looked disgruntled in a soft, rumpled way that made Stiles want to kiss him. But he settled for smoothing down Derek’s impressive bedhead.

“I really missed you,” he said, the admission easy in their warm, sun drenched cocoon.

The smile he received in return was like the sun coming up. “Missed you too.”

They probably would’ve stayed curled up together for the rest of the day, if Cora hadn’t come bursting in.

“Good morning! Pancakes are ready!” She glared at Derek. “And no hanky-panky where I can hear it!”

Stiles mouthed _hanky-panky_ while Derek laughed beside him.

“Come on, let’s get the grumpy-wolf his coffee.” Stiles held out a hand to help Derek out of bed.

Derek didn’t let go until they were seated at the table, surrounded by family.

And finally, Stiles felt like he could breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> rebloggable link and edit coming after the reveal
> 
> Rebloggable (tumblr) link [HERE!](http://stereksecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181388508326/merry-christmas-foolishsel-for-foolishsel-who)


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